Twelve Days of Christmas
by DSBJellyDonuts
Summary: Tallahassee-era fluff, based around Neal's interpretation of the classic song.


A/N: I put this on tumblr back in January, and it received literally no notes. So either no one saw it, or it really just is that terrible. I know you're not supposed to apologize for your writing but... this is really quite cheesy and not fleshed out, just a silly little thing, so I'm sorry if you were looking forward to something amazing, lol.

Also, it's technically AU, since the timeline doesn't work for Christmas in the Bug.

* * *

 **14 December**

"Neal, what are you doing back there?" Emma asked, peering over her shoulder at her boyfriend. She found him squatted down on the floor of the back seat, fumbling with something she couldn't quite see.

"Don't look!" he replied, sounding far more desperate than the situation could possibly call for. Living together in such tight quarters left few secrets, and Emma couldn't fathom what he was doing that required such privacy. But he continued his protest, fussing at her again - "I told you not to look!"

"Fine," she replied, huffing in annoyance as she flopped back into her seat. "But _what_ are you doing?"

"Making something!"

"Making something?"

"Uh huh. I'm done now," he replied, poking his head between the seats and grinning, all traces of annoyance gone. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands." She did as she was told - or so it seemed. But he knew her well enough to notice that she was still peering out from under one slightly lifted eyelid. "Close 'em all the way, Em."

She huffed again, squeezing her lids shut tight. "I don't like surprises," she protested, feeling the weight of something small but dense land in her hands. She sniffed, a weird blend of fruit and plastic assaulting her nose, and shifted to face towards where she'd last seen him. "Can I open them?"

"Yep!" he replied, and she was momentarily distracted by his goofy grin before shifting her gaze to see what he'd left in her hand.

"What the hell, Neal," she asked, leaning away from the object in her hand and wrinkling her nose up at it as if it had personally offended her.

"Okay, so, Christmas is in a dozen days and I know your Christmases have always been as sucky as mine, so I thought maybe we'd try some new traditions this year..."

"So you gave me a piece of fruit? With a CD lodged in the side?" she asked, tilting her head as she peered at it, as if a different angle might suddenly make sense out of the madness he'd handed her. "I mean, we don't even have a CD player. Partridge Family... this your way of telling me David Cassidy's your uncle or something?"

"No!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "Em, it's the first day of Christmas."

A moment passed and she stared at the offending fruit before looking back at him, staring for another long moment and then glancing back down at the gift. She studied it, eventually shaking her head and looking back at him with a puzzled shrug. "I don't get it. I mean, I see it's a pear, but... I don't get it. Partridge Family CD, pear..." Realization dawned on her and she let out a snort of laughter. "A partridge in a pear... tree? Without the tree?"

"I couldn't get my hands on an actual tree," he said sheepishly.

"C'mere, you," she replied, depositing the present on the front dash and leaning into the back seat for a kiss. "You have somehow managed to give me simultaneously both the strangest and most thoughtful Christmas gift anyone's ever given me."

"It's a talent," he replied, as he pulled her the rest of the way into the back seat.

 **15 December**

"No, no no, wait!" Neal yelped, as Emma attempted to slide her hands into his coat pockets and retrieve the treasures they'd acquired at the Goodwill.

"What?" she asked, frowning at him as they separated in order to climb into their respective sides of the car. She took the driver's seat, but instead of climbing into the passenger seat, he slid it forward and crawled in behind it, kneeling on the floorboard as he emptied his pockets onto the bench seat in front of him. "What the..." she trailed off, fading into good-natured laughter as she was overcome with a sense of deja vu from the previous day. "Oh no, not this again!"

"Just hang on!" he said, tucking a couple of items back into his pockets and handing her the rest of the items they'd pilfered. "Do we have any napkins left?"

"Yeah, in the glove compartment, why?"

"Can you hand me a couple?" he replied, turning once again to face the rear of the vehicle and blocking his makeshift work space with his body. Silently, she grabbed the napkins and handed them back to him, reaching over his shoulder and stretching forward as she did so in a covert attempt to see what he was hiding. "Hey!" he protested, hunching over the back seat. "Come on, just give me a second!"

"Fine," she huffed, flopping around in her seat just as she had done the previous day. She heard the shuffling and rustling of paper before he climbed back into the front seat and demanded once again that she close her eyes.

"Hands out," he ordered, carefully setting an item in each one.

Emma couldn't help but laugh when she opened her eyes to find a worn Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle in each hand. "What's up with the napkins?" she asked, looking curiously at the napkins - folded into triangles and tucked under each turtle's arm.

"They're wings," he replied, and she thought for a minute before cracking a grin.

"Turtle doves, I gotcha. Creativity points! But... you got the wrong ones, babe," she ribbed good-naturedly.

"What?"

"This is Michelangelo and Raphael. _Everyone_ knows Leonardo and Donatello are the best."

 **16 December**

"I'm hungry," Emma whined plaintively as they cruised down the road the following afternoon.

Obediently, Neal turned the bug into the next McDonald's they happened upon, joining the several-cars-deep drive through line. Once it was his turn at the speaker he rolled the window down and addressed the greeter. "Yeah, uh... we just came through here a few minutes ago and got burgers and fries, but one of the orders of fries wasn't in the bag."

"What size, sir," the bored-sounding voice echoed out of the speakers.

"Large," he replied.

"Please pull ahead and we'll have that right out for you," came the nasal tones, and Neal advanced the car as requested.

Three minutes later, the drive-through employee passed the fragrant sack of fried potatoes through the window to him, and as he pulled away, Neal found Emma trying to grab the bag out of his hands.

"Hold on, hold on!" he said, batting her hands away as he held the bag hostage next to the door, preventing her from snatching it.

"C'mon, I'm hungry!" she fussed, but he only pulled into the strip mall across the street to park the car.

"Hands out, eyes closed," he said, and she tried to hide her smile as she obeyed.

She felt three hot fries drop into her fingers, burning them slightly and causing her to let the fries drop onto her lap as she popped her eyes open. "Hey!" she said, retrieving the snack and shoving the meager offering into her mouth. "Where's the rest?"

"It's the third day of Christmas," he said, grinning cheekily at her.

"So I get three _french fries_?" She raised an eyebrow. "Not even _close_ to french hens, dude. Not even close... and I'm still hungry," she replied, grousing at him as she pulled out her best pout.

"Okay, okay! I'll do better tomorrow! Peace offering?" he asked, holding the paper bag out for her to take.

"Forgiven," she replied, grabbing a handful of fries before she set the bag between them.

"I mean, french hens, where ya gonna find those in Portland anyways?"

 **17 December**

As they sauntered out of the convenience store and around the corner, Emma felt Neal's arm snake around her waist, pulling her close as he tucked a hand into her jacket pocket.

"Happy fourth day of Christmas," he said as he withdrew his hand and patted the pocket it had just occupied.

She peered at him suspiciously as she reached into her pocket, confused when she found only smooth plastic inside. "I thought we were on to calling birds," she asked as she flipped the gift over to read the front. "Calling cards?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him as she fought to hide her smile. "Who're we gonna call?"

A moment passed as they looked at each other. In unison, "Ghostbusters!" came tumbling out, the duo bursting into laughter as they delivered the punchline to the unavoidable joke.

"Seriously, Em. Did you think I'd invite four noisy birds to live with us in the bug?"

 **18 December**

"Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Emma groaned and did as she was told... only to feel something scratchy drug down each finger in sequence. "Okay," he told her, and she opened her eyes to look at him, peering skeptically before she glanced down to see what he'd done.

"Seriously?" she asked, looking at her hand incredulously.

He shrugged. "Tin foil's a lot easier to lift than gold?"

She shook her head, laughing, before giving him a kiss. "It's the most jewelry anyone's ever gotten me."

She pretended not to hear him as he cleaned up the bits of foil he'd left scattered around the back seat, muttering softly about how someday, he'd make it real.

 **19 December**

It was well into the evening of day six when she realized that not only had she not been gifted her surprise of the day, but that she was actually _curious_ to see what he had in store. She forced herself to hold out her curiosity, however, until he made the executive decision to make a quick stop at the grocery store.

"I'll be right back," he told her, "Keep the car running."

Five minutes later she spotted him calmly weaving through the heavy holiday traffic at the exit of the grocery and pulled forward to the door so that he could hop in. Once they'd taken the right turn to get out of the parking lot, he turned to ask her a question.

"So... what's the difference between a goose and a chicken?"

She thought for a moment, biting her lip to avoid laughing while being careful to keep her eyes on the road. "Um... I don't know?"

"Good," he replied, as they rolled to a stop at a red light. "Me either." He slid a small styrofoam container onto her lap, and she chanced a glance down to find a half-dozen eggs sitting there.

"What the hell, Neal," she asked, laughing as she picked up the container and handed it back to him so that she could continue driving.

"Okay, but if we pretend that geese and chicken are pretty much the same thing..." he trailed off, shooting her a smile that said he hoped she bought his weak explanation.

"All right, I can buy that. Six chickens a-laying," she replied, playing along with his scenario. "But what are we going to do with raw eggs, inside of our very kitchen-less car?"

"That's the best part!" he exclaimed, a grin creeping onto his face, clearly proud of himself. "I got the hard boiled ones, we can eat them now!"

"You're nuts, you know that, right?" she said as the light turned green and she pulled off.

"Yep."

 **20 December**

"Ems," he said, gently shaking her shoulder as she lay sleeping across the back seat, "Hey, wake up, I got a surprise for you."

"Yeah?" she asked, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah," he replied, leaning over from his perch in the front to give her a peck on the lips. "So, listen, it's day seven and-"

She groaned. "Seriously, you woke me up for that? I love the thought and all but-"

"No, listen Em!" he interrupted, pressing on. "This one's kinda time sensitive."

"Huh?" she asked, finally squinting one eye open at him. "You got me a present on a timer?"

"No, no. Well, not exactly," he explained. "So I don't have seven of anything, but swans a swimming... well. You're a Swan so we needed a pool for today! I bartered with the kid at the Y, told him I'd wash his car if he'd let us into the pool. He said he'd do it, but we've gotta get there before his supervisor gets in at 9."

"Swimming?" she asked, propping up on one elbow as her smile grew. "I don't even know the last time I've been swimming."

"Well, today... I am taking a swan a-swimming."

 **21 December**

"Why's your hoodie spread across the dash?" Emma asked, climbing back into the bug after a pit stop at a fast food joint. "Did you spill stuff on it again?"

"No!" Neal exclaimed with a pout. "C'mon, I dumped Sprite _once_ and you'll never let me live it down."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah... Sprite once, Coke another time, then there was the incident with the milkshake..."

"Milkshake was your fault!" he protested, and if he hadn't needed his hands on the wheel, she was certain they would have been on his hips in child-like defiance.

"All right, all right," she conceded, curious enough about the current situation that she was willing to concede the argument. "If it's not drying, then why's your stuff spread out all over? There's not enough room in here for you to be a slob, Neal."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not being a slob. I'm trying to give you a Christmas present."

"By spreading out your hoodie?"

He heaved a sigh as he shook his head. "Why don't you move it and see?"

Gingerly, she lifted the well-loved jacket up, underneath finding a neat row of boxed milk, each bearing a graphic of a milkmaid with a pail. She began laughing at the display. "Well, I guess that fits."

"Yeah, and they've been out of the fridge for a while now, so you'd better get to drinking."

 **22 December**

"Where's my present?" Emma asked, sometime after lunch on the ninth day. "I need my dancing ladies."

"Demanding!" he replied, secretly finding glee in the fact that despite her protests, Emma had come to anticipate the surprises he had in store for her each day.

"Nuh uh," she argued, "I just want to get it out of the way."

He let out a loud, sharp laugh. "Well if that's your attitude, I don't know if you get any dancing ladies!"

"Hey now!" she replied, putting on her best pout. "You'd really withhold my present?"

"From that face?" he teased her. "Never." He reached into the back seat and grabbed a plastic grocery bag. "Close your eyes. No peeking this time, okay?"

"Fine," she huffed, squeezing her eyes shut. He waved a hand in front of them to ensure that they were really closed before proceeding to set up the present, leaving Emma to wonder about the rustling of the plastic bag and the odd popping noises she was hearing from the dash. Ninety seconds later he gave his permission for her to open her eyes, and her only reply was to burst out laughing at the sight before her.

"What?" he replied defensively. "This one is one of the most literal interpretations of the lyrics!"

"Neal," she replied through her giggles, "I am not sure suction cup hula dancers are what they meant by 'nine ladies dancing.'"

"But there are nine," he pointed out, counting them, "they are ladies, and they are dancing!"

"That they are," she finally conceded, "that they are."

 **23 December**

"Eyes closed," Neal ordered, and without any further prompting Emma held out her hands. "Ribbit," he said, dropping a ziploc baggie into her hands.

She lifted the baggie up, turning it around as she examined it and then looking over at him. "Plastic frogs?"

"Here, take one out, I'll show you," he said, reaching an open hand out towards her. She unsealed the bag and handed him a small plastic frog, which he placed on the dashboard in front of them. "So you push down on the tab like this," he instructed, showing her how to depress the tab between the frog's hind legs, "and then it jumps!"

"There's ten?" she asked, eyeing the bag carefully.

"Yep! Ten frogs-a-leaping."

"Okay," she asked, shooting him a skeptical look out of the corner of her eye. "But what about the lords..."

"Got it covered!" he declared proudly. "If you look carefully, you'll see each of the frogs has a crown on its head."

"Okay, but wouldn't that make them frog princes?"

"No, no, see, a lord is pretty much the same thing as a prince, right?"

"Riiiight..."

"So they are lords... a-leaping!"

She shook her head and laughed at him even as she lined up several frogs and sprung them across the dash.

 **24 December**

The Eleventh Day of Christmas passed by in a blur of normalcy, and had it not been for Neal's countdown, they may not have even paid the date any heed. As it was, it was evening time before Emma began wondering where the day's surprise was, curiosity peaking as Neal returned to the bug after a supper run. He climbed in with a huge grin, and she felt a crooked smile creep onto her face, closing her eyes and holding out her hands without waiting for his invitation.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, puzzlement clear in his voice.

"Getting my present?"

"Oh," he replied, sounding dejected. "Um..."

She popped one eye open. "You don't have it?"

He let out a dramatic sigh. "I do, it's just... it's not together, exactly, and it's not..."

"Not what?"

"I dunno. It's not the best one."

She shot him a look, something that said _seriously?_ mingled with amusement. "Babe, you got me three french fries, it's gotta beat that."

A sharp laugh reverberated through the car as he apparently took offense to her statement. "Okay, first, you got most of a large fry, and two... yeah, no. It doesn't. Pipers piping was hard, okay?!" His defense earned him another _look_ , and so he decided to move things along. "Close your eyes," he instructed, and as always, she did as asked. "This is gonna take a minute, be patient."

"Am I ever not patient?" she asked, and she pretended not to hear the snort that served as his reply. It was accompanied by the crinkling of cellophane, and eventually she felt him place something onto her head.

"What the..." she asked, squinting at him and raising her hands to lift off the object and figure out what he'd done. Peering at the multicolored tower of circles, she started laughing, shrugged, and placed the crown back on her head. "Headdress of pipe cleaners. Interesting."

He shrugged, looking sheepish. "Like I said... not the greatest."

She leaned over the center console to kiss him, careful not to topple the headpiece. "You get an A for effort, babe."

 **25 December**

"Neal."

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing?" she asked, curious about why her boyfriend had randomly parked them on an out of the way streetcorner half an hour earlier.

"Just be patient," he replied, casting a glance at the clock mounted in the dash. "Few more minutes."

True to his word, four minutes later Emma heard the faint sounds of a marching band approaching. From their seats in the bug, they had a front-row view of the brief parade that trailed behind, wrapping up with a small drum corps, six drummers in the front line and another five bringing up the rear.

"Ta da," he said, turning to her as the parade completed, broad smile across his face. "Happy twelfth day of Christmas!"

She returned his grin as she thanked him. "But Neal... there were only eleven," she pointed out pragmatically.

He shrugged, unfazed, and began tapping his hands against the steering wheel. "How's that for your twelfth drummer?"

"Best drummer I could have asked for," she said, leaning forward as she craned her neck to look at him. "You know... that's a pretty tall claim to be making."

"Hmmm?"

"The song, I mean. If I remember correctly, it goes something like, 'On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...'"

"Mmhm?"

" _True love_?" she asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Huh," he replied with a shrug. "Guess I never thought of it."

"No?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, what's true love, anyways?"

"Not sure it's definable," she replied. "But you know, the song says you're mine, so..." She trailed off, shrugging slightly as a small smile crept onto her face.

"Who's to argue with that?" He returned her smile as he leaned in to give her a peck on the lips. "Merry Christmas, babe."

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
